


Suspenders and Stripping to Power Ballads

by imusuallyobsessed



Series: Making Her Forget [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Power Ballads, Smut, Stripping, Woman on Top, oliver singing to felicity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imusuallyobsessed/pseuds/imusuallyobsessed
Summary: After the mayoral event, Oliver and Felicity finish what they started in the closet. And Oliver fulfills his promise to make her forget about Channing Tatum. Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon week 3 prompt: taste.





	Suspenders and Stripping to Power Ballads

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. My first attempt at rated E smut. NSFW. *clicks post and scurries away*

Felicity stumbled into the loft, and it wasn’t because of the wine. She’d had a few glasses at the event, sure, but mostly her lack of coordination was due to Oliver plastered against her back.

He didn’t even give her an inch, making sure she could feel every line of their bodies connected. One particular part of him was especially hard against her lower back. Once the door was shut, Oliver spun her around and slammed her against the door.

In the heat of the moment, Felicity was distantly aware of his hand cushioning her head from hitting the door. His fingers tangled in her simple up-do. She smiled, hazy, but didn’t get the chance to say anything before Oliver was crashing into her. In the moment, she was happy she hadn’t worn her glasses tonight. The hard frames didn’t go well with what their night entailed.

They spent spare minutes kissing, a tinge of _rushed_ and _hurry_ and _faster_ to the usual beginning of their nights. It wasn’t long before they sighed against each other, always in sync, and reached out their tongues to taste. Felicity moaned and Oliver growled, his hands finally stilling against her when they settled on her ass. He loved when she was loud. It had taken him some time to coax those reactions out of her – to convince her she didn’t need to temper her noises. Once she embraced it, he would tell her he could feel every vibration of her voice like it was right against his cock.

Felicity didn’t have much incentive to be quiet after that.

Her hands tightened around his suspenders. She’d immediately slipped her hands under his jacket when he slammed her against the wall and her fingers didn’t drift far from the best part of his fancy dress. They were such convenient grips.

Speaking of, she pulled him even closer.

Oliver growled again, his hands gripping her cheeks even harder. She whimpered, and he moved his lips from her mouth to her ear.

“I have a promise to keep,” he murmured, breath hot against her ear, and Felicity melted. His voice was pure sin. Dark chocolate. Cabernet. _Oliver_.

“Yes,” she breathed, remembering earlier in the evening when he got all growly about her thorough enjoyment of _Magic Mike_. He’d promised to make her forget all about that, and she could tell by the spark in his eyes that he already had an idea.

“Bedroom,” he declared, tensing his body to pick her up.

“ _Here_ ,” Felicity whined, impatient. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, connecting them at the _one_ place they’d been too far apart.

They both gasped, reveling in the feeling, and ground against each other for several seconds before Oliver growled again, using the leverage of her raised leg to lift her into his arms. Her dress hiked up to accommodate his body between her legs, but his hands remained firmly where they’d been: kneading her cheeks over her dress.

“Bedroom. I have plans, Miss Smoak.”

Heat zinged down Felicity’s spine and she sighed, tilting her head back in open invitation. It tipped her weight, but she knew Oliver would never let her fall.

They were married. She’d been Mrs. Smoak-Queen for long enough now to get used to it. But Felicity _always_ got turned on when he called her _Miss Smoak_.

His mouth descended to her neck again, trekking across her pulse points, her shoulders, and her jaw as he rushed them up the stairs.

Before she knew it, Oliver was lowering her onto… a chair?

“What’s this?” Felicity asked, some of the lustful cloud lifting. She looked around, noticing this chair was in the middle of the empty space in their bedroom. Nothing else was near. In fact, it was almost put in a place of honor.

“I didn’t forget about that damn movie.” Oliver went to the Bluetooth speaker on the bedside table and clicked it on, wirelessly connecting it to his phone. Felicity pressed her thighs together, always turned on when Oliver competently used technology in front of her. He lit a few candles as well, giving the room an ambient glow.

“What – ”

Before she could ask, Oliver pressed play and the smooth, clear voice of The Outfields singing about how they didn’t want to lose your love tonight filled the room.

“Eighties power ballads? It’s not – ”

Felicity was stunned to silence again – something only her husband could do with any level of frequency – when Oliver slipped off his suit jacket.

It was a slow, sensual slide. Down his shoulders, over the muscles his white dress shirt should barely hide, down to the tips of his fingers. He held on to it for a moment, then dropped it to the floor. Felicity’s mind was distant again, and she barely managed the thought that Oliver _hated_ messes, and it was strange he was throwing his clothes anywhere and not putting them neatly away.

She was out of the chair like a shot, but Oliver materialized in front of her. His hands settled on her shoulders, then slid down to her forearms. His eyes burned, pinning her to the spot.

He tsked his tongue and shook his head. “Am I going to have to tie you down, Miss Smoak?”

If she’d been hot before, she was a bonfire now. Wild. Burning. Rising.

“Maybe,” she breathed, surprising herself. Oliver, too. But his surprise instantly melted into scorching lust.

“If you insist,” he murmured, setting her down and reaching to his neck.

His deft fingers moved slowly as he undid his tie, somehow even this movement sensual. His hands went with the music, the silk coming undone from around his neck. He slowly slid it off, running one hand along the cloth until it came to the end and he pulled it taught.

Felicity gasped, getting wetter by the moment.

He glided around her back and kneeled, his hands running up and down her forearms through the thin slats of the chair.

“Are you sure?” he asked, dark and smooth.

Felicity nodded, her wrecked up-do bobbing. He pulled on a fallen mass of hair playfully. All surprise, no pain. Felicity laughed, unable to stop herself, and Oliver reminded, “Words, Felicity.”

They’d dabbled in bondage before, very lightly. Both took turns on the receiving end of the restraints. Oliver, ever vigilant when it came to her, made sure they both had rigid, clearly-defined rules when they played. His care, his tenderness, just made Felicity even more wet. The restraints were probably a good idea if he wanted to actually _perform_ for her.

Of the two of them, Felicity was much, much less patient.

“Yes, yes, yes. _Please_.”

She hadn’t meant to repeat herself, but she felt the breath of Oliver’s laughter against her arms and smiled. He took her hands gently and brought them through the openings in the back of the chair. The position thrust Felicity’s chest forward. He hadn’t touched her breasts all night, and they were _aching_.

The silk was soft against her wrists, but as it tightened, Felicity felt her own need ratcheting higher and higher.

He finished the knot, running his callused hands over her arms again for several seconds as Felicity took deep breaths and settled into the feeling.

His heat moved closer. He must’ve been right behind her. His shirt brushed against her arms and she felt his breath right beside her.

“Alright?” he asked. Teeth bit into her ear, pulling gently on the lobe. Felicity gasped, then moaned.

“Yes, I’m fine. Please, Oliver, just…”

“Shh…” He licked across her piercing, his mouth like a brand, and wrapped his teeth around the metal. Felicity didn’t know how much more of this she could take and from the chuckle that floated across her skin, Oliver wasn’t anywhere near done.

He kissed her neck and got to his feet, returning to his place in front of her. No jacket or tie. Top two buttons of his shirt undone. Eyes like magnets, attracting her once her perusal was done.

The music played on, soft as air around them.

Oliver started to move.

It wasn’t crazy or overdone, just easy, sensual movements of his body as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Slow. Hot.

His eyes never left hers. She could feel them. But hers, oh they _roamed_.

His body was incredible. Muscles bulging under scarred skin, his body a weapon to protect the city, belying his gentle spirit.

He wasn’t just for the city, though. Truly, he was all hers.

When he unbuttoned as much as he could, he slid off his suspenders, untucked the shirt, and finished the rest of the buttons. Taking the shirt off was a little faster than the jacket. Felicity felt that, for some reason, Oliver was impatient. Unlike him. She pulled at the tie around her hands, wanting to get closer, but Oliver’s handiwork held firm.

Once the shirt was off, Oliver grinned. He slid the suspenders back up, settling the black strips against his bare skin.

“ _Oh my god_.”

He was smirking now, relishing in the effect he had on her. She jerked harder, the silk tie holding again.  The need to touch him was so strong her palms were itching, her fingers flexing.

“Oliver, please – ”

She didn’t know what she wanted. Well, that wasn’t true. She wanted too many things. Far too many things to articulate them all, especially when she felt like she was about to choke on her tongue.

His body, framed by those _damn suspenders_ , somehow looked infinitely more appealing than it had before. It was hard to top Oliver Queen in looks, but he’d somehow managed to beat his own record. With his muscles flexing, on display entirely for her pleasure, Felicity thought she was about to combust.

She licked her lips, eyes glued to Oliver’s body. She… she just wanted to _taste_ him.

He came closer, leaning over until his hands were braced on the back of the chair. Every line of him was defined, lit by the moonlight pouring in through the massive window and candles dancing around them.

Felicity couldn’t speak. She wanted to, but she opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Oliver grinned again, then moved.

He rolled over her like waves, muscles flexing and relaxing and entrancing Felicity like magic. The suspenders slid against his skin with almost-silent whispers. Felicity’s chest heaved as she panted, the sound of her breaths filling the room and mingling with the music.

“Ol’ver…”

She was slurring. Drunk on him, his body, what he was willing to do for her. What he did _to_ her.

He bent closer to her and she arched, presenting herself to him.

He played her body like a maestro.

Then, he melted to his knees.

Felicity’s eyes snapped from his body – abs, pecs, _suspenders_ – to his eyes. Blue crashed into blue, currents whirling between them. Felicity’s breath snagged.

Oliver put his hands on her knees and dragged her legs apart, fitting himself between them. His heat settled against her, brushing against her core, and she whimpered.

That image of him: on his knees, between her legs, suspenders dark against his skin…

“Frack, please, something…”

Felicity knew where this was going. She had been surprised how he threw himself into oral the first time they went there. Not in Nanda Parbat – there hadn’t been enough time that night – but after, before they took off into the sunset. He’d spent an hour between her thighs, showing her exactly how much he meant every single word he promised her.

Every inch of her body was aching for Oliver’s touch, even more so now with that memory.

She opened her mouth to tell – or beg – Oliver to touch her. He must’ve seen that switch in her eyes, because just then he slid his hands from her knees all the way up to her waist, taking Felicity’s dress with him.

She hadn’t worn underwear that night. After his promises earlier in the evening, she’d wanted tonight to be as quick and hot as possible. The darkness in Oliver’s eyes told her he approved.

Being completely on display – her dress rucked up and thighs forced apart by Oliver’s body – used to make her nervous. But they’d been together so long, so many times, there was nothing but love, passion, and trust.

She threw her legs even wider, moaning when the cool air hit the hottest part of her.

Instead of going where she’d not-so-subtly asked, Oliver’s hands tracked up her sides to rest just under her breasts, framing the heaving flesh with his big, hot hands.

She pushed her chest forward as much as she could while bound to the chair, asking without words.

Oliver liked to tease, but he chose to satisfy her quickly this time.

Her halter dress had a plunging neckline, and Oliver ran his hands up her chest until they reached behind her neck. With one, quick move, he released the clasp and the two halter pieces fell on to her stomach.

Her nipples hardened almost instantly in the cold air and her mouth fell open. She didn’t have the oxygen to gasp or sigh anymore.

Oliver’s hands fell to her chest, kneading the flesh. Felicity’s eyes had slipped shut, struggling just to focus on dragging air into her lungs. Not even the sight of Oliver could pull her out of the unbearable heat she was trapped in.

Suddenly, Oliver’s mouth fell on the tip of her right breast and Felicity cried out, wrapping her thighs around him and squeezing.

His mouth manipulated her flesh, sensation flashing from her breasts down to her core. She thrust against him mindlessly, desperate for more, until Oliver opened his mouth and bit down.

The sharp sensation made her cry out, but it didn’t really hurt. It just fanned the flames consuming her.

“Patience,” he growled against her skin, lips moving over to her other nipple and laving it with his tongue. His other hand went to the abandoned breast, massaging the flesh as not to leave it alone.

“Easy for _you_ to say.” Felicity meant to snap, but there was no heat in her words. Oliver deserved everything he wanted. Even if what he wanted was to torture her.

Oliver chucked against her flesh, kissing the rosy nub under his mouth before he said, “I’m not torturing you.”

Felicity huffed, managing to open her eyes and look back down at her husband with a raised eyebrow.

His responding smile was wolfish. “If you really want torture, next time I’ll tie your legs down too.”

That image was too much. Felicity was desperate. She flexed her legs and brought him closer, sliding to the edge of her chair so his torso would _finally_ rub against her.

Before she could really get a rhythm, he pulled back.

Felicity cried out at the loss, but Oliver just rested back on his feet and brought his hands back to her waist. Slowly but inexorably, Oliver drug Felicity to just the edge of the chair. He wrapped his arms under her thighs and rested his hands on top of them, digging in where they creased to meet her hips.

Teasing done, Oliver bent over and licked a burning stripe from her opening to her clit.

Felicity knew she was making loud, high-pitched cries every few moments, twisting in his grip but unable to move too far under his commanding hands and mouth.

He feasted on her, lapping at her wetness and drinking her in like she was his last meal. His fire met hers, and together they burned in double time.

Even sooner than usual, Felicity felt herself tightening. That precipice was so close, swelling higher and higher, and if she could just…

The heat snapped. Felicity screamed.

Pleasure washed over her in waves, pricking from her toes to the top of her head, swamping every inch in between.

Oliver continued his assault, every few swipes of his tongue interspersed with the sharp sting of teeth. He sheathed his finger in her pulsing walls right when she came, adding another spike to and prolonging the pleasure rolling through her. He kept his mouth on her, licking her clit, his finger pumping inside her, until the tension eased from her body and she loosed her legs.

“Oh _frack_ , I should make you jealous more often.”

Oliver leaned back and looked up at her, his face shining with her wetness in the dim light. He held her gaze and licked his lips deliberately. Just as the fire had finally left Felicity, with that move it was simmering again.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, standing in one, fluid movement.

Felicity pulled at her bonds again, having fully come back to her body. “I want to touch you,” she whined, turning her big eyes on him.

In an instant, Oliver freed her hands and tossed the tie to parts unknown.

Felicity immediately tackled Oliver to the ground, giggling when he wrapped one arm around her and controlled his descent with the other so he didn’t hurt himself against the hard floor. Now, she was in control. She straddled his hips, his thick, pulsing cock – still wrapped in his pants – trapped between her core and his own body. His breath caught, and she grinned.

He was under her power now.

Starting slow, Felicity ran her hands across his chest. The suspenders were still on, and she bent over to pepper kisses along the skin that met the black straps. Her lips skimmed over scarred and unscarred flesh alike, treating each the same. All of it made up the man she loved.

Feeling impish, she slid one of the suspenders out of the way and licked across his nipple. Oliver gasped, arching under her, but she put her hands on his shoulders to keep him down.

“I was good for you,” she purred. “Now you be good for me.”

Oliver nodded, his eyes wide and trusting. He’d been the predator. It was Felicity’s turn to go hunting.

She bent over and kissed him. Hard. Sloppy. She tasted herself, and licked deeper for more. He met her stroke for stroke, using what he had at his disposal – his tongue – to rock her world.

As lovely as making out with her husband was, she had other pieces of him to get her mouth on. She returned to his body. She kissed across his chest, her hands letting go of his shoulders to grip his hips. He’d promised to be good for her.

She went back to his pecs, alternating kisses with tongue and teeth. She worked her way down his body. His abs required her particular attention, and by the time she moved away from them Oliver was panting. Of the two of them, he was much quieter during sex. Getting him gasping was a feat.

Eventually, her mouth found the edge of his dress pants and he gave a muffled cry, thrusting his hips as much as he was able under her weight.

She bit down at the edge of his skin in retaliation, holding his flesh in her mouth for a few moments before letting go. She was entranced by the red mark she’d left behind.

“Patience,” she quoted back to him, and he huffed a laugh. It made his abs ripple, and Felicity sighed at the view.

In one movement, she freed his cock from its confines and stroked.

Oliver made a choking sound, his wide eyes snapping down to the sight of her small, dexterous fingers on his length.

Silk over molten steel. Felicity marveled at the feeling. She’d felt his cock a thousand times, but it was always like a new discovery.

Oliver breathed, “ _Please_.” A rare, rich victory. With a grin, Felicity positioned him at her entrance before sinking down in a slow, smooth glide.

Oliver gasped. Felicity sighed.

Every time he was inside her felt more right than the last. She stayed still, reveling in clenching her muscles around Oliver’s length, her hands braced on his heaving chest. He tensed as if to move, but Felicity dug her fingers into his chest and he stilled.

After infinite hours or scant seconds, Felicity started moving. She rolled her hips and flexed her inner muscles at regular intervals. The heat started to build again, slow and steady. Deeper. Less overwhelming, since she was the one in control.

Beneath her, Oliver was struggling. His face was red, blush dancing down his neck to his chest. He didn’t blush often, either.

“Begging _and_ blushing. I must be doing something right,” Felicity teased, circling her hips at the end of another downward slide. His pelvis brushed her clit just right and she bit her lip.

“You do everything right,” Oliver groaned – at her biting her lip, her words, or the circles, she wasn’t sure.

Felicity grinned and laughed a little, throaty and sultry. “I’ll carry on, then.”

She sped up, clenching her muscles harder and faster, and in minutes she knew Oliver wouldn’t last.

“Felicity, I’m about to – Please let me – ”

“Touch me,” she sighed, and moaned when his thumb fell to her clit and started a fast, almost brutal rhythm. Pleasure spiked up her spine, making her nipples and mouth tingle in a mirror feeling of the assault on her clit.

Their skin slid faster against each other, slick with sweat, until Oliver tensed up and Felicity felt a familiar hot rush fill her that triggered her own orgasm.

Once they came down, Felicity collapsed against Oliver. His arms caught her. They were heavy and comfortable, like a heat blanket. Felicity arranged herself so as much of her body was on top of his as possible. The floor was cold, and Oliver seemed willing to bear the burden of lying on it for her.

The playlist was still going. It had moved on to another familiar classic. Oliver’s music tastes were split evenly between whatever hits were popular before the _Queen’s_ _Gambit_ sank and 80s rock. He never minded what she played, though, so it was rare for her to be around and listening to his playlists.

That’s why she had no idea he knew this song so well.

Her head jerked up when she heard something unexpected, and smiled down at Oliver. “Are you humming?” she asked, her voice softer than she thought.

He looked surprised at being caught, but nodded. Felicity grinned and wiggled higher up his body, resting her head in the hollow of his neck.

“Sing to me.”

Oliver was self-conscious. He was silent for several moments. She could feel his mouth opening and closing and feel his sharp breath in his lungs beneath her. Finally, he sighed and held her a little closer.

“ _I’m forever yours_ …”

Felicity was exhausted, but she forced herself to tilt her head and kiss his jaw, whispering along with him, “… _faithfully_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment or kudo. I thrive off validation, and if you guys enjoyed it there could be more smut in my writing future!
> 
> Tumblr: [@imusuallyobsessed](https://imusuallyobsessed.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter: [@usuallyobsessed](https://twitter.com/usuallyobsessed)


End file.
